


The Night We Lost Her

by thehousethatfloats



Series: Hearts of Gold [8]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, NSFW, Scroldie love each other but they are bad at it, guys these ducks fuck, heat of the moment, like... severe angst, not really questionable consent but I’m er-ing on the side of caution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehousethatfloats/pseuds/thehousethatfloats
Summary: Scrooge shows up on Goldie’s doorstep in the middle of the night, ten long years ago.Heed the warnings, kids. This one got a bit dark.





	The Night We Lost Her

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, this one ran away from me a bit. It was supposed to be the Intimacy Prompt for Scroldie week and it got... a little dark. And it’s DEFINITELY mature, in a sexy way. Proceed with caution.

The phone rang, just as Goldie’s head hit the pillow. She groaned, and considered ignoring it. But the damn thing kept ringing, and Goldie knew it had to be the front desk. It would have cut out by now otherwise. She threw off the covers and stomped across the penthouse, picking it up as violently as a person could pick up a phone. 

‘What?’

‘Uhhh, Goldie?’ The night manager’s voice wavered, like she’d known this was a really bad idea from the get go, but she was committed now and had to see it through. 

‘What is it? Linda, it’s the middle of the night.’

‘I know... sorry.’ Goldie could hear the wince. ‘It’s just... well, Scrooge McDuck is here?’

Goldie froze. 

‘What?’ She managed, racking her brains to think of what on Earth she might have stolen recently that might bring Scrooge to her door at this hour, unannounced. She couldn’t think of anything.

‘He just walked in, and went straight to the elevator. Said he had a key.’

‘He does.’

‘So... it’s okay that he’s coming up?’

‘Well, it has to be now, doesn’t it?’ Goldie snapped. ‘Just... don’t let anyone else up, huh? You’re pretty damn terrible at your job, you know.’ 

And with that, she hung up. 

 

 

 

She eyed the elevator out of the corner of her eye, the numbers rising, higher and higher, and it was all she could do to glance in the mirror and fix her bangs before the damn thing pinged and the doors slid open, and the familiar form of Scrooge McDuck appeared in her living room. 

Goldie knew immediately that something was wrong. Even in the dim light, his shoulders were hunched, he was missing his hat, and his cane hung loose at his side. Something was very, very wrong.

Goldie strode forward, steeling herself for a fight.

‘Scrooge... what the hell are you-‘

‘She’s gone.’ He said, his voice no more than a whisper.

‘What?’ Goldie couldn’t help herself, she had to ask. She couldn’t be sure what he’d said, his voice was hollow, and his words seemed to turn to dust even as he said them. 

‘I lost her. _I lost_ _ all of them...’ _

‘You’re not making any sense.’ She reached out to take his arm and urge him inside, and realised he was soaking wet. ‘Did you walk here? What is wrong with you, you old idiot? You’ll catch your death.’ 

He stumbled across the threshold then, and she shut the door behind him. When she turned back, she realised to her horror that his knees were giving way beneath him, and it was all she could do to duck under his arms and catch him before he hit the floor. 

‘Are you sick?’ She asked, laying a hand on his forehead. He wasn’t warm, if anything he was worryingly cold. He leaned into her embrace, burying his face, and wetness seeped into her shirt. She couldn’t tell if it was from the rain or something else. ‘Scrooge, _please._ Tell me what’s happened.’ 

He didn’t say anything. It seemed he couldn’t say anything. Goldie ran a hand up and down his back in an attempt to offer some kind of comfort, and he just held onto her tighter. He was holding her as though he was clinging to life itself. 

She led him through the penthouse, to her bedroom. It was the middle of the night, after all, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. As she unbuttoned his coat and stripped the sodden fabric from his shoulders, he shivered and mumbled incoherently. Goldie wondered for a moment if he was drunk, but she couldn’t smell any liquor on him. 

Goldie tried to remember the last time she’d seen him. It wasn’t unusual for a few years to pass between their trysts, and they had both been busy... it seemed more time had passed than even they were used to. She remembered an argument, something to do with the kids. It hadn’t been serious really, just enough for them to give each other the silent treatment for a couple of years or so. She’d checked in with Della and Donald occasionally, and everything had seemed fine. Now she wished she’d checked in more.

_I lost her._

_I lost all of them._

It couldn’t be... it couldn’t be that something had happened to the kids, could it? Donald and Della were resourceful, and resilient as hell. And they had to be adults by now, surely? But what else could have sent Scrooge into such a spiral? Goldie suddenly felt her own heart clenching tightly in her chest. 

_Not the kids. Not those wild, wonderful Duck twins._ It didn’t bear thinking about. 

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to help him. So she did the only thing she did know how to do. 

She kissed him.

At first, it was entirely one sided. Scrooge was a rag doll in her arms, useless and unresponsive. Until suddenly, he wasn’t. 

He kissed her back with a fierceness she hadn’t felt from him in years. He kissed her like she was his oxygen, and he needed every last bit of her to keep himself alive. 

Goldie gasped as she found herself pushed back hard against the wooden headboard. She hadn’t quite anticipated this reaction, but it was at least  a reaction, so when Scrooge began to fumble with her buttons of her shirt she let him tear at them and send them scattering across the room. She tugged at his damp undershirt and peeled it over his head, and crossed her wrists behind his neck, pulling him closer. 

She fell back on the mattress, the weight of Scrooge landing heavily on top of her. He was devouring her, his mouth pressing hot kisses all over, and as he mapped his way across her body she did her best to ignore the splash of wet tears that accompanied them. 

Then he buried his face between her legs and she quickly lost all sense of rational thought. 

Scrooge didn’t hold back. It had been years, and she’d almost forgotten how good he was at this. Even in... whatever state he was in right now... he threw himself into his endeavour with gusto, like he did everything. But even as Goldie came hard against his face, her fingers grasping at the sparse tufts of feathers on his head and holding him to her, she knew that this was not going to be one of their usual encounters. 

When she finally managed to manifest enough energy to focus on the reality of the situation once more, Goldie let her hands smooth over the ruffled feathers and down to his whiskers. She ran her fingers through them as best she could reach, and the sound he made when he leaned into her touch was more akin to a sob than anything more amorous. 

‘Scrooge...’ Goldie managed, urging him to come back up the bed, so they could be face to face once more. He let himself be led, reluctantly, but when her hands rested on either side of his face and their eyes finally met, Goldie gasped at the absolute devastation reflected in his. Her own heart constricted in her chest. 

‘Oh  _Sweetheart_ _,_ please... tell me what’s happened,’ she begged him, and she knew that’s how it sounded and she didn’t care. No one was allowed to hurt her old miser like this. No one would dare. 

Scrooge screwed up his eyes and shook his head, and instead focussed his attention back on her, preening at the fluffed up feathers on her breasts and nuzzling into her softness, one hand moving down to spread her legs wider apart, the other slipping easily between them, where she was still slick from his earlier attentions. 

Goldie moaned as his fingers worked their way inside her, the damned man knew exactly which buttons to push to distract her. She reached down herself, fumbling for purchase, but he batted her hand away, and instead removed his fingers and replaced them with his manhood, pushing into her in one smooth motion all the way to the hilt. 

‘Oh -  _shit,’_  Goldie cried, gritting her teeth as her body adjusted to the sudden intrusion. Scrooge didn’t give her much time to recover though, his movements were sloppy and his focus was slipping, but that didn’t stop him pounding into her, over and over, with such force that the bed rocked and thumped repeatedly against the wall. 

Thank goodness they were in the penthouse - no neighbours. Goldie almost laughed, the thought was so unlikely, but there it was, right in the front of her mind while her long absent lover drove into her in a way that she quickly realised was not intended to bring her pleasure. She doubted very much it was bringing him all that much either, but she knew he needed it, he needed  something , and if this was something she could do for him then she would happily lay back and take it, if only for the chance of never having to see that look in his eyes again. 

It didn’t take long, and Goldie couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful for that fact. Scrooge began to shudder and strain and Goldie knew then he was close. She reached down between them and helped him along, while her feet crossed behind his rear and urged him on. 

‘Come on baby, let it out,’ she murmured in his ear, in the softest, warmest voice she had ever used while they were in bed together. This whole endeavour was quite out of character for the both of them, but she was rolling with it. ‘Whatever it is, whatever’s happened, just let it all go... I’m here. I’ve got you.’ 

Scrooge came with a mournful cry that didn’t stop, even when he was spent. His hips finished jerking and Goldie felt him slip out of her. She knew this was coming, somehow she knew it was going to end like this. She wrapped her arms around her sweaty, sodden mess of a duck and held him close to her breast as he finally succumbed to the grief that had been threatening to take him all night. He sobbed; and it was loud. Great, jerking, earth-shattering cries that tore through her heart until she couldn’t tell if the tears splashing onto her feathers where his or hers. 

He couldn’t speak, he didn’t need to. Goldie knew that her earlier fears must be true. Something must have happened to the kids. Something terrible. He hadn’t even been like this when Hortense... no, this was another level. This was a father grieving for his child and there was nothing she could do to help him. All she could do was hold him as he wept. 

So she did. 

Hours passed, and the night began to wane. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Scrooge began to quieten, his body quaking less and less, only racked by a fresh wave of sorrow ever few minutes or so, until even that faded away and at long last he fell into an exhausted sleep. 

Goldie didn’t join him. She couldn’t. Even when she felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing against her chest, she couldn’t let herself relax. Because everything was different now. 

He had come to her. They were in _her_ apartment. What on Earth was she supposed to do when morning came? Order room service and send him off with a kiss on the cheek? Should they try to  _talk_ _?_ He didn’t want to, and she didn’t want to listen. This wasn’t what they did. It wasn’t their thing. 

And so, she did what anyone would expect her to do - most of all, Scrooge. 

As the sun rose, she extracted herself from his vice like embrace and crept through the apartment like a spectre, changing into fresh clothes and packing a bag. She was long overdue a visit to her other hotels, and Linda could send up breakfast, whatever he needed. He would pull himself together, of course he would. He was Scrooge McDuck. The only way he wouldn’t was if she was still there to hold him as he crumbled again. 

She left him a note on the pillow beside him. A simple letter, just two words. And then she left, and she didn’t look back.

 

_I’m sorry._

_X_


End file.
